


Don't forget to smile.

by deitaru



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ballet, Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deitaru/pseuds/deitaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio Fernández Carriedo is a janitor at a local ballet studio. Working long hours to help his family, working menial tasks and doing it all with a smile. </p>
<p>Lovino Vargas dances. He dances and dances and some say he's insane. Others say he's trying to make a name for himself outside of his family. </p>
<p>Fate, and a spilled bucket of mop water will bring their differences to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't forget to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> -idea credit to tumblr user doritovargas-

_"Tonio!! Tonio, por favor?"_

A bowl is shoved in his face, the last remaining dredges of milk seeping at the corners. Antonio grabs the bowl, ruffles his hand through his little brother's hair, and raises one eyebrow.  


_"In English, Diego."_  


White teeth. A grin.  


_"Pleaaaaase?"_  


_"Of course. Cheerios again?"_ Rapid nodding. Grinning and giggling and then a shrill screech from the other side of the table.  


_"Dios mio!! Ricardo how many times do I have to tell you, cereal belongs in your mouth and not on the floor! Gah. You're going to be the death of me, baby brother."_  


_"I dropped it on accident Tonio I promise!!"_  
Antonio smiles, shakes his head, and with one hand waggles a finger at the boy in his booster seat while pouring more cheerios for Diego.  


_"Enough! Enough Tonio they're spilling!!!"_  


_"I guess you're right, huh? That's okay, I'll clean it up later."_ He smiles and hands the full bowl back to his brother, sliding over to the other mess and quickly cleaning it off the floor.  


_"You two are going to be late for school and I'm going to be late for work do you see that?"_  


In unison, both brothers mutter apologies but Antonio only smiles.  


_"It's fine. Don't worry about it. Just finish your cereals and get dressed so I can take you to school, okay?"_  
More nodding. He rolls his eyes. Right little bobbleheads they were.  


_"I'm going to go get dressed and if you're not ready when I am, I'm sending...."_  


Gasps and wide eyes.  
 _"The......"_  


Nervous lip chewing and hushed giggles behind open hands.  
 _"The TICKLE MONSTER AFTER YOU!!"_  


Loud raucous laughter and two bear-hugs later left Antonio walking to the back room of the apartment, treading around discarded toys and piles of clothing. I need to clean tonight, he thought with a small sigh. After work, I'll clean while the boys watch a movie and then maybe I'll get some sleep. Maybe I could leave a note for Marsella to vacuum the floor if she's feeling generous. 

Marsella was the after-school sitter for the boys (five and seven was not nearly old enough to be alone for that long, unfortunately) and he could barely afford to keep her, let alone try and tack on extra cleaning chores. Diego and Ricardo were enough of a handful without giving the poor woman a heart attack. Antonio could clean. He'd get home at eight, pop in some Dora the Explorer (for the fiftieth time this week, he'd been keeping count) and get some work done around the house. But as long as his brothers were smiling and happy and well fed, Antonio didn't mind. 

Footsteps towards their bedroom, small quick ones, proved that they were going to get dressed and he sighs, relieved. Some mornings were worse than others and the last thing Antonio wants is to wrestle them into their clothes today. He begins to get dressed himself, pulling on his work uniform (a polo and khakis) and running a comb through his hair. Nametag, check. Shoes? Check. Keys? God dammit where are the keys? He curses gently under his breath, sifting around the dresser for them. 

_"Oi, have you guys seen my keys?"_ He shouts, walking out into the hallway again.  
 _"No, Tonio,"_ They reply. 

He sighs and shakes his head, smiling. Alright. Where could they be?  
Under the couch, maybe?  


He gets down on his hands and knees, peering under there and trying to see with the lack of light.  
 _"Could one of you get me a flashli---mmHPH."_  


Two solid weights on his back, two sets of giggling.  
 _"We got him!!! We got the monster!!!"  
"You got me!! You got me ay dios mio you got me!" _

They laugh and giggle and when Antonio finds his keys they pile into the van and head to school. 

Just like every morning, he waves at them from out the window and hollers that he'll see them after work and they dash off into the building and Antonio smiles. He smiles and drives to work, still smiling. Life was good. 

 

Work always passed quickly for the Spanish man. He worked hard, smiled brightly, and sang a little under his breath while he mopped floors and cleaned bathrooms and made sure the lights were working. He was the go-to-guy for everything around the studio, and cleanliness was next to godliness, right? His boss was nice, the other dancers were lovely, and Toni was rarely mistreated. He spoke English well, enough to slide out of most racial stereotypes (but not all) and at the end of the day no one could say with any honesty at all that he didn't do his job as perfectly as he could. He worked ten hour shifts, at minimum wage, five days a week, and was barely managing to scrape by. America was not as fruitful or as free as it should have been, but the disappointment didn't keep Antonio down for long. He would take care of his brothers, save up some money, go to school, and finally get a job worth writing home about. 

Antonio loved watching the dancers while he worked. He loved the way they moved with passion, the way their feet barely touched the ground and then thudded against it with nothing but pure grace, and he loved the improvement he got to see as a result. They were beautiful, lithe, and their faces spoke mass amounts of effort and concentration. Dancing was one of the hardest things in the world, in his opinion, requiring discipline of both body and mind. Whenever he found himself a spare moment he'd lean against his mop or broom, smiling at the dancers and watching them as unobtrusively as possible. The music was nice, the movements were nice, and even when mistakes were had the passion in which they made them was to be awed. 

One dancer in particular caught his eye repeatedly. A man who moved as if the words of God himself were flowing through his body and out onto the floor. A man who danced with his eyes closed and his heart open. A man with dark brown hair and tanned skin and beautiful posture and a passion that seeped out of everything he did. 

It was this night, when Antonio's mind was on cleaning and Dora the Explorer and his brothers, that he cleaned his way into one of the rooms, near closing time, and encountered the man dancing. He was alone, and his eyes were closed, and he hadn't noticed Antonio yet. So Antonio watched, and smiled. And cleaned the same spot over and over and over again. 

The dancer leapt and twirled and executed pirouette after pirouette. Antonio didn't know how long he stood there or how long he watched the man dance but as time passed he became more and more enthralled with his movements. The energy in the room grew taut and the music sped up and the dancer became more and more passionate and the way his lips pursed made way for a facial expression that shook something deep within Antonio and before he knew it he was tearing up. He had always considered himself a passionate man, a man who loved to cook and loved to sing and loved to love but he had never before experienced something as raw and perfect as what he was seeing now and before long the tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes and--

And the dancer slipped. His toes shrieked across the floor of the studio and his hand flailed for the bar but he missed and the thud of his head on the ground made the sound of the music feel eerie and out of place. But it continued to play and Antonio continued to stand there, completely stunned. The man cursed over and over again, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. His eyes opened and he caught sight of Antonio and immediately was up on his feet. 

_"Did you make the floor slippery, bastard?"_ He growled, rubbing at his face and through his hair. _"Can you not fucking see that I was dancing here or does it have to be written out for you?"_

Antonio shakes his head and steps backwards out of politeness and trepidation and right into the mop water, stumbling over it and ending up on the floor himself, sudsy water soaking through his clothes and spreading out over the floor. 

The dancer barks out a harsh laugh, and for some reason Antonio begins to laugh too. He's laughing at himself but when he looks up at the other man it's clear he thinks he's laughing at him, and he stops abruptly. The dancer is gnawing at his lower lip and it looks like he's forcing a scowl but maybe that's just the angle he's at. Antonio holds out his hand, but no help is offered and so the employee struggles to his feet and looks down at his soaking wet clothes. 

_"I'm sorry. God, this is a mess. I'll clean it up, I promise."_

_"Of course you will,"_ the other man replies, no longer laughing, voice harsh. Even with the music still playing, loudly and discordantly without movement to accompany it, Antonio can tell the man is embarrassed from his fall earlier. His emotions were on his face, clear as day, just like when he was dancing and it was obvious in that moment he was trying his damnedest not to let the janitor know. Antonio politely looks away . _"It's your job."_

Antonio nods and hastens out another apology. His heart is racing and embarrassed was a word he'd use to describe something ten levels below what he's feeling right now. Mortified would be more accurate. This guy was angry, he was clearly angry and upset, and Antonio knew that an accident like this could cost him his job. Moving to grab the mop to soak up the water, Antonio's face reddens and he averts his eyes even further, focusing on cleaning now. 

_"Were you watching the entire time?"_ The dancer asks, shuffling to cross his arms and though Antonio isn't looking at him anymore, he can already visualize the scowl that accompanied the words. The way his lips were likely tightening, the red flush cascading along his cheekbones, knitting eyebrows together as if they were one entity. He was looking away but a face as expression flooded as that one wasn't something he could stop seeing. 

He nods, taking a deep breath. Please don't let this cost me my job, he thinks. But there was no use lying. And nothing to be ashamed of, he muses, picturing the dancing from earlier. The sheer amount of grace and poise. Why wouldn't he have been watching? _"Most of it, actually. You're really beautiful, you know?"_

Their eyes meet and the expression on the dancers face is exactly as he'd pictured it, and it makes Antonio grin. The other man clears his throat and looks away, grumbling something about "idiots" and "the help" but when he turns to leave, without looking back, he says something that makes Antonio's blush deepen.

_"If you really want to watch, don't bring your water bucket, jackass."_

And then he was gone, grabbing his radio and shutting off the music and tramping out of the studio like a woman who was just told her favorite shopkeeper was no longer offering her discounts. With a flair and the slam of the door and while Antonio finished cleaning the floor, he was humming and smiling and maybe it was the way he hit his head but the blush on his cheeks took hours to fade.


End file.
